“What does it say for seven p.m.?”
“It’s blank,” Miss Hollingford said, confounded. “If he were planning an evening out, he would have had me make reservations. I assume from his lack of formal engagements that he is working late tonight. I’m not sure what he told you, but it’s nowhere on the calendar.”
“Can you give me a hint?” Hannah asked as sweetly as she could.
“Do you have an auditory processing problem, honey? I don’t know what the man is up to, but it’s off the record. I can’t help you.” Miss Hollingford took pleasure in hanging up the phone on the sassy-mouthed girl who’d told her off yesterday.
Left to her own devices and her cautionary experience at the Blake Bar, Hannah decided to dress up. After canvassing her own closet and finding only a navy shirtdress appropriate for an interview or a funeral visitation, she called in the cavalry. Her sister swore she had the perfect solution.
Soon, Becca was at her door with a garment bag.
“If we can squeeze you into a size six, we’re golden,” she said by way of greeting.
“I told you I couldn’t fit in your clothes. I’m an eight.”
“Duh. I wear a four. This is from the prop shop. The old lady I’m understudy for wears a six and she has this knockout dress. There’s no rehearsal tonight, so I nicked it. Check this out.”
It was black, one-shouldered, with a wrap skirt and a high slit up the front. It was sleek and sophisticated, and with the triangular cutout front and center below the breasts, it was sexier than anything she’d ever worn. She stared at it covetously.
“Let’s try it,” Becca urged, and she helped her sister into a strapless bra and a waist cincher to lay the foundation.
“Always put the shoes on first. It gives you the right posture and attitude,” she counseled, passing Hannah a pair of nude stilettos. She zipped up the dress and tugged Hannah’s shoulders back.
“You have to stand up perfectly straight, or you’ll slump and your tummy will ooze out the cutout. That’s not the look we’re going for.” Becca turned her toward the mirror and she saw her own mouth form an ‘oh’ of wonder. It was gorgeous. Just like something out of a magazine.
“Now, makeup,” Becca said, expertly curling her sister’s lashes and applying eyeliner.
When she was finished, the pale cheeks had a peachy glow, the dark eyes were contoured with green shadow, and a deep wine lipstick was topped with a fiery red gloss. “You’re a knockout,” she said approvingly.
“Thank you. I’m not sure I can walk or stand up straight enough, but it’s better than I’ve ever looked. I won’t spill on the dress, I swear. Or rip it.”
“If you do, wardrobe can take care of it. No sweat.”
“Thanks.”
“No, I mean no actual sweat. It’s murder to remove from fine fabrics. I forbid you to perspire in this gown. It’s designer, so no sweating.”
“I love you.”
“Me, too.” Becca said, air kissing her to avoid messing up the makeup job. “Where’s he taking you?”
“I have no idea,” Hannah admitted.
“You have no idea and you’re dressed this formally? I thought you were going to a benefit gala or something. This could be a disaster. You need to change. What if he takes you horse riding?”
“That’s unlikely. One can’t prepare for every contingency. This suits the kind of world he inhabits. I’m sure it’ll be a fancy dinner,” she said more confidently than she felt. “I’m meeting him at his office in half an hour. I have to go. Thank you again.”
“You turn into a pumpkin at midnight,” Becca warned.
“I’m already a pumpkin, but the control top waist thing took care of that. No worries,” she said, grabbing the evening bag Becca had stuffed with her essentials.
He met her in the lobby with a low whistle of appreciation.
Jasper Cates was wearing jeans, albeit jeans that probably cost three hundred dollars, and a crisp white shirt, the sleeves rolled up to reveal strong, tanned forearms.
“Are we—where are we going?” she faltered.
Jasper thought quickly. Her bombshell dress called for a definite change in plans. If he took her where he’d intended, he knew she’d be spooked—she’d be so busy worrying about how overdressed she was that she couldn’t enjoy herself.
“Beautiful,” he said. He pulled out his phone and punched in an email to Miss Hollingford to produce tickets. “First, a drink.” He led her down to the Blake for a cocktail.
“I don’t drink very often. It kills throat cells,” she whispered.
“Two Shirley Temples,” he ordered, straight-faced, and soon a juicy concoction with three maraschino cherries speared on a plastic sword appeared before them. She sipped it happily and he relaxed when he got a message from Miss Hollingford.
“The car will be here momentarily. We’re going to the symphony. It doesn’t start until nine. Are you hungry?”
Hannah was torn between eating because she was hungry and abstaining because she didn’t want to spill or burst her girdle. She shrugged in what she hoped was an expressive European way and ate a cherry out of her drink. Jasper kissed her then, suddenly and in front of the crowd at Blake Bar. He tasted of tart lime and salt. She kissed him back without hesitation. When he put his hand to her waist, she flinched, worried he would feel the boned mechanism restraining her midsection, and sat up straighter.
“I have ideas of where we could spend our two hours,” he said, wiping red gloss from his mouth with a scoundrel grin.
“No, thanks. I don’t want to be the first entry of dial-a-brunette. I’ll pass on the nudity portion of the evening,” she said flippantly, although the thought of spending two hours in various stages of undress with Jasper Cates in a hotel room made her start to sweat in a way she was certain Becca would disapprove of.
“Then come to the park with me. It’s a nice evening. The sun’s gone in, so you won’t get any Vitamin D but we can enjoy the fresh air.”
She hobbled after him in the stilettos until they reached the park a few blocks away. She occupied the first bench she saw, remembering to keep her spine ramrod straight.
“You’re tense,” Jasper said. “Tell me about your work. What did you do today?”
“Put on the most agonizing shoes known to mankind,” she said, indicating her feet.
Jasper knelt on the ground in his jeans and popped off her right shoe. He pressed his thumbs into the arch of her sore foot, stroking and massaging until she was nearly purring. He replaced the shoe and removed its mate, beginning on her left foot. She made a half-hearted protest before reveling in the unaccustomed pampering. When he was finished, he put her shoe back on and sat beside her on the bench, reached into his pocket for his hand sanitizer, and rubbed his hands together.
“More relaxed?” he asked.
“Mmm-hmm,” she assented, dropping her head to his shoulder. “Thanks.” He turned and kissed the top of her head, putting an arm around her so she fitted against his side.
“I know you’re a sound engineer…I thought you’d appreciate a concert. It’s the Brandenburg Concertos.”
“Ah, Bach. The Baroques aren’t my favorite, but I do enjoy the Brandenburg Concertos, if only because I feel sorry for Bach. He was such a genius—hard to get along with, but a genius. The Brandenburgs were never even performed in his lifetime…he sent them as an audition for a king, like a job application, and the musicians at court were so shitty that they just put away the scores unused because they were too complex. Think how sad that was,” she said vehemently.
“It’s hard not to kiss you sometimes.”
“Even though I insulted the Baroques?” she teased.
“Handel and his ilk can go to hell for all I care. I’m only going for you.”
“You don’t like Bach? Or it’s just a waste of your valuable time?”
“I don’t have any strong feelings for Johann Sebastian, favorable or otherwise. The only reason his concertos are worth my notice is that there’s this sound engineer I want to impress and I hear that musical appreciation is a big part of that.”
“Thank you. That’s thoughtful of you.”
“Stop being formal and tease me again,” he said, leaning in to kiss her, brief, gentle kisses that brought her closer to him, eager for more.
“You surprised me when you called last night. I underestimated you,” Hannah said.
“I surprised myself. I never thought I’d give up a blonde in the hand for a mockingbird in the bush.”
“That was spectacularly horrid and corny.” She laughed.
“Ah, but it was worth it to make you laugh like that. I can’t believe I made you cry.” Jasper ran both hands down the length of her hair and pulled her to him, his warm palm closing over her bare shoulder. “You have freckles,” he said quietly, bending to kiss them.
“We’re in a public park.”
“Very observant of you, yes,” he said, putting his mouth to her throat in a way that made her toes curl under with desire. She stifled a high-pitched noise and he pulled her to her feet. “Shall we adjourn to my apartment?”